


Time Free For You

by LilahGreen



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 13:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21271757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilahGreen/pseuds/LilahGreen
Summary: John is about to head home and Sherlock fidgets nervously with his mug of hot tea.





	Time Free For You

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something loving and angsty about Sherlock's days out of the hospital.

Sherlock fidgets nervously with his mug of hot tea, holding it tight and close to his chest. He's cold but won't admit it to John.

He doesn't want to bother the man, who is already walking towards the door. He does his best to look like John's leaving won't affect him.

"Sherlock, are you shivering?" John's brows are furrowed deeply, and he's studying Sherlock intently. He shakes his curls as casually as his broken heart allows. John however is not tricked. He saunters over to Sherlock's chair. "You are. You're absolutely trembling." He says in a deep, low whisper.

"Of course not," Sherlock exclaims, placing his mug on the table to give him an excuse of turning his head.

"Don't lie to me Sherlock." John growls. A strong hand suddenly encompass his shoulder, sparking a surprise arousal so strong Sherlock can't help squirming in his seat, and then John's other hand comes to cup Sherlock's chin between his thumb and forefinger. Sherlock glances up to see John's dark eyes and deeply lined face intense in its inspection of Sherlock's visage. A shiver completely unrelated to the chill runs down his spine at the heat of John's hands, the rough callouses slightly rubbing against Sherlock's smooth skin.

"I'm not lying." He says softly. "I'm just cold." Which isn't a lie. He often wears his thick wool coat indoors and would still be freezing. The weight loss and drugs and beating at the hospital certainly haven't helped matters.

"We've got the heat turned up all the way. It's boiling in here. No. No, you're shivering from something else. And I'm going to make a deduction on what that is." 

He bites his bottom lip, not sure he can take another one of John's astonishingly accurate deductions, especially not over something like this.

"You don't want me to leave."

"I enjoy our time together, that's all. Gets lonely and all."

John snorts. "Mrs. Hudson is in and out of here constantly. No, there's something you're not telling me, Sherlock. What is it?" There's that deep command again. Sherlock squirms. He tries to look away.

Maybe because the strong hand begins gently caressing the back of his neck that does it. But something at that exact moment in Sherlock breaks apart. Despite his best to keep it in, a high keening sound leaks from his lips. Unbidden tears slip down his pale cheeks, and the next thing either of them know is Sherlock is crying, full-body sobs that have him quaking in his chair.

Between hitching gulps, Sherlock manages. "Take me to my bed, please. I need to lie down." Before Sherlock can even get out the second sentence surprising strength picks him up from his chair and carries him into his room. John is tender, oh so tender, when placing Sherlock on his bed. He immediately curls on his side, away from John, in his typical fetal position.

Everything hurts so much he can't even voice his thanks. Perhaps John really does know the reason, because the next thing he knows he feels the mattress dip low next to him. The broad warm hand is back. This time closing around his hip.

Sherlock drifts into a fitful sleep in less than a minute. 

**Author's Note:**

> That's all I have. I might add more. I might not. I just wanted to write out how I felt as a viewer at how Sherlock was breaking inside when John was about to leave.


End file.
